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i found you in the garden, you had halfway lost your top
in memories i have pictures, snowy winters jaded frost
only you send me off, only you send me off

we were flying through the trade winds when a stranger clipped your wings
how silly to have mistaken you for a peasant, you were a queen
what a silly sort of thing, what a silly sort of thing

we were dancing beneath a blue sky, our bare feet upon the ground
of an earthquake of a dark plague, ashes ashes we all fall down
who’s a king without his crown, who’s a king when there's none around?

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